Twenty-Two
by MangoGirl19
Summary: She's twenty two when she meets the love of her life.
1. Chapter 1

Twenty-Two

Dedicated to the coolest godparents ever :)

And for coffeebookchiller and Captain Americanna, the most enthusiastic Darcy/Alina shippers out there.

Written to Twenty-Two by Lily Allen.

* * *

1

The first time she sees him, well not really sees him-for Thomas has her peeling onions for the pasta and her eyes are burning like someone poured a whole bottle of the nastiest eyedrops in the world into her eyes-she is running down the back corridor of the restaurant, blindly searching for the restroom so she can wash her eyes and she collides with a warm body. She thinks she is going to fall on her face but a pair of large hands steady her, their grip on her shoulders sending a shiver down her spine. She ignores it.

'Hey', she says, smiling in his(?) general direction, her eyes shut tight. 'I'm looking for the restroom and though I know this place like the back of my hand when my eyes are open, blind I am at a severe disadvantage. Can you help me?'

He says nothing but removes his hands from her shoulders. She hears his footsteps moving away from her.

'Hey!',she exclaims,'you skewed my sense of direction and now you don't even have the decency to point me in the right direction?'

She hears an exasperated sigh and he moves towards her.

'Would it kill you to move faster?', she snaps, irritated by his slowness. She has onions to peel, tomatoes to slice, capsicum to chop and a giant horde of dishes dying for her touch in the sink and this guy is taking his own sweet time.

He grabs her hand and suddenly she is struck by the realization, that she does in fact, not know his gender.

'Are you a guy?', she asks.

'Yes', he exhales in a honest to goodness British accent.

'Mate, I only asked because if you were a bird you could've taken me inside the restroom', she says, irritated by his high and mighty attitude. She would have been damn more polite if their roles had been reversed.

'Thank God that I'm not a _bird_ then',he snaps back.

'Dude, you need to get laid man', she says, clutching his hand, scared of knocking into a wall.

'Will you stop that?', he asks exasperatedly. 'Your impersonation of a British barmaid is entirely inaccurate.'

'I was trying to be the bartender actually,' she says casually as he stops in front of the restroom.

He pushes the door open and it creaks. Loudly.

'Woah, this is really inappropriate. I mean, you know..'

She can practically hear his disapproval. He is one of those snobs who think they are too good for regular people.

He leads her to the sink and then disentangles his fingers from hers. She _does not_ know how they became entwined. She had _nothing_ to do with it.

'Goodbye.'

'Bye, mate!'

She hears him sigh before the door slams after him.

* * *

2

She's tired because she's been up the whole night crying. A combination a bad breakup, exam stress and pure, good old homesickness. She just got dumped by George Wickham, the campus hottie who led her to believe that she was the love of his life while it was actually a bet to see if he got her, the bloody nerd to sleep with him, she has tons of papers to write in order to maintain her grades and she misses her brother. It's been two years since she's seen him. The stupid, noble man that is her brother, he is away in some country, working with Doctors without borders. Last night, he sent her an email with a wedding photo attached. She is his fellow doctor, a pretty petite brunette named Elizabeth and Richard says he is the happiest man in the world. The sad part is she believes him: he no longer needs her like she needs him.

The tears overflow then and before she knows it, she's curled up on the floor, her head between her knees and sobbing, her body trembling with the force of her sobs. Oh, how she needs him, her brother, her knight in shining armour who always swooped in and made things okay.

'Excuse me?',a quiet male voice breaks the silence in the restaurant. She hurriedly wipes her eyes and gets up, pasting a sunny smile on her face, in preparation of greeting the customer. Her life may suck but she needs this job. She needs it if she is to become someone, someone self-made, out of the shadow of her domineering mother.

She smiles at the cute guy in front of her who sort of looks vaguely familiar and he stares at her in return. It gets awkward after a minute and she wipes her nose, suddenly conscious about her appearance.

'Er, hello? Earth calling Mister!'

'Oh!', he says, running a hand through his tousled hair, looking up at the menu. 'I need a tomato and lettuce sandwich with a mango milkshake.'

'Ohkay..', she bills the items and looks at him over her computer screen. 'Anything else?'

'No. That's all.'

'That'll be-'

He places a bill on the counter.

'Keep the change,' he says and hurries out without even taking his order.

She looks after him in bewilderment.

* * *

3

It's raining.

Everyone around her is ducking under buildings, opening umbrellas or just walking real fast in order to avoid getting drenched but she wants to stand there, just stand there and get soaked to the bone. It reminds her of her childhood, when mother was away at business trips and Dad was alive and he took her and Richard to play in the yard outside whenever it rained.

They played soccer, splashed about in mud puddles or just danced in the rain, when Daddy would twirl her and she would laugh loudly, her face upturned towards the heavens.

She raises her face then, the drops splashing on her skin and for a moment it's like she's back in Napa Valley, on the vineyard and everything's the same-'

'ALINA!'

Her recollections are interrupted by Thomas' loud voice and sighing she goes inside, back to living in the dull, drab reality.

He watches her go, her shoulders slumped and when she disappears from sight, he turns and walks away, his black umbrella and dark clothes effortlessly blending into the rest of the crowd.

* * *

4

The fourth time he sees the girl with the violet eyes, she's dancing on a stage in the corner. Apparently, it's the owner's birthday and they are celebrating it. She dancing, twisting, twirling and smiling and laughing and he's never seen anything so uninhibited. His childhood has been starched shirts, pressed pants, properly knotted ties and sophisticated waltzes and he doesn't know what to make of her. She's crazy, wild, free and she has him bewitched, that much he knows.

His phone rings. He glances down. It's Caroline. He swipes to the left. He wants to enjoy this freedom as long as he has it. He knows what awaits him once he goes back to England and while the dutiful son and fiance in him tells him that sitting here, drinking, staring at this pretty girl is the last thing he should be doing, the man in him, the man he has discovered in America, softly rejoices in this quiet rebellion.

She's his symbol of disobedience. She's means something to him even though she doesn't know he is the same British guy who helped her, she just knows him as the guy who sits at the corner table and orders mango milkshakes and tomato and lettuce sandwiches every time he's there. He's spent hundreds of dollars in the past two weeks ordering the same things repeatedly which he gives away in soup kitchens the moment he leaves the place but he cannot bring himself to leave it. Leave her. Something holds him there.

He smiles wryly. He knows what's wrong with him. He's in love with her.

* * *

5

After two weeks of serving the same order to the cute, British guy who sits at the corner table, she is burning with curiosity about what brings him here, so she approaches him. It's a slow day and there's no one else there so she sees no harm in talking to him for a few minutes.

'Hey,' she says softly, clutching the menu to her chest like a shield.

'Hi', he looks up from the book he is reading-Sherlock Holmes, he suddenly skyrockets into her list of top ten customers-and smiles. Gods, he is beautiful. And he sounds a bit familiar.

'You're the British guy?', she ventures. 'Your accent sounds very familiar though you're seriously downplaying it right now.'

'Yes', he says sheepishly in his natural accent. 'I find it easier to blend in if I adopt your accent.'

'I find your accent ho-nice', she blushes. Sometimes it would be nice if she wasn't so blunt and honest.

He laughs and her cheeks turn redder. 'Yes, I've been told by a substantial amount of women and men.'

They both laugh then.

'Forgive me', he says, standing up and she cannot stop the disappointment that floods her face. She wanted to talk to him. He reads her correctly and a smile pulls at the corner of his lips. 'Please, sit.'

She looks around the restaurant and then throwing caution to the wind, slides into the booth across him.

'So, what's your favorite color?'

'Sorry?'

'Oh come on, here we are, two strangers who don't even know each other's names, sitting across each other in a restaurant and doesn't playing random twenty questions fit right in?'

She cannot stop her giggles and he blushes. 'Your impersonation of a romcom is seriously lacking, mate.'

'Aaand, my favorite color is blue. The grayish blue of the sea on a stormy day.'

'Were you brought up near the sea?'

'I've only seen it once in my life. You?'

'I have a cabin near a beach I retreat to whenever I need a break.'

'Ooh! Poor little rich boy, are you?'

'You think I'd fit the part?'

'With your brooding looks and gucci shirts, certainly.'

He looks at his shirt searching for the insignia that gave him away. He finds nothing and looks at her questioningly.

'So, you do wear Gucci shirts then',she comments casually. 'Shame, I took you for an Armani guy.'

* * *

6

They become friends. He is a graphic designer from England and she's a Economics major to be, working part time in Wendy's to pay off the loans she took to pay her tuition. He's tall, brown haired with the most beautiful blue eyes she's ever seen-she wasn't kidding when she said the color of the sea on a stormy day was her favorite color, it's the color of his eyes after all and she doesn't think he realizes that-and she's of average height, pretty run of the mill looks except for her violet eyes that seem like a freak gift of nature. He's rich and she, is not. She donated her trust fund to Greenpeace the day she came of age. She misses the money sometimes but when Greenpeace tells her what the money is being used for, she feels proud of herself. She hasn't told Richard though.

They meet everyday, make idle conversations and soon she confides in him about her family:how her mother is an obsessed, domineering woman who sees nothing beyond profits, how her brother became a doctor with great difficulty, going against her mother's expectations and was cut off as a result and now he's happily married to Elizabeth and doesn't want to come back. He pats her hand like an old lady when she feels like she's going to cry and she starts laughing instead, the panicked expression on his face is priceless. Men are the same when it comes to crying women.

He tells her about her family. There are only three of them. His father, his sister and him. His father is quite like her mother, a domineering businessman who wants him to follow in his footsteps and run his company. He loves the family business but he hates his father's constant interference. There is no place for him to be his own man. His younger sister is still at school and according to him, she is the best sister in the world. She agrees with him after the first time they face time with Georgiana.

* * *

7

A month and a half after they meet, he asks her out. He's nervous and keeps twisting his fingers and she smiles so big that her cheeks hurt. Finally.

They go to see a movie, a horror one at that and she spends the entire time in the cinema with her face hidden in the crook of his neck. He doesn't seem to mind.

* * *

8

They are walking in Central park after their date and it's pretty quiet for a park that is flash bang in the middle of the city and she tucks her arm in his and leans her head on his shoulder. He hums quietly to a Beatles song and she recognises the words to 'I wanna hold your hand'. She hides her smile with her hand. He looks at her, his expression filled with love and adoration and it takes her breath away.

He leans down and it is beneath the cloudy, smoky sky with barely any stars visible that they have their first kiss. They break apart, breathing heavily and he leans his forehead against hers.

'Alina Fitzwilliam', he says, his voice pleasantly husky. 'You are the best thing that happened to me.'

She captures his lips with hers in response.

* * *

9

The next few weeks pass in a haze. He comes to the restaurant after work which coincidentally is the same time as the end of her shift everyday and soon everyone at Wendy's starts teasing her. They call him lover boy. Everytime, she's in the kitchen helping or on the counter and he enters, they are surrounded by cheers of 'Lover boy'. The blushes on their faces only serve to increase the pleasure of the teasers.

They go to her place and he cooks for her as she kicks back and relaxes in her pjs and makes headway on her homework. They eat dinner together on her old couch in front of the T.V. watching Sherlock. She loves Benedict Cumberbatch and her evident admiration for his fellow Englishman seems to make Will quite jealous.

It is then, one fine day, his phone rings. He rejects the call and leans back on the sofa but then it rings again.

'Will', she says playfully, leaning closer to whisper in his ear. 'Pick it up or it might interrupt us later when we don't want to be interrupted-'

His heated look causes a shiver of delight to run down her spine and this time, she definitely doesn't ignore it.

* * *

10

She's worried.

He has been pacing in her non-existent balcony for the past half an hour, shouting agitatedly into his phone at frequent intervals and she doesn't envy the person at the other end at all. He runs his hand through his tousled hair, trying to make his point to the person on the other end and when he ends the call, his face is drawn and his hands are shaking. She can't stop herself any longer and she goes to him, her hair flying in the cold wind that surrounds them and cradles his face in his hands.

'What is it, Will?', she asks gently, caressing his cheek.

He closes his eyes and a lone tear runs down his cheek.

'Will!Please..', she is scared now, she has never seen him so discomposed.

'My father..my father is dead',he croaks and she embraces him then as he breaks down in her arms.

* * *

11

It's 3 am and they are lying in bed, his head over her heart as she runs her hand through his hair soothingly.

He breaks the silence.

'I have to go', he murmurs quietly against her damp shirt.

'I know', she answers softly.

But neither of them move to get up.

'I'll come back.'

She says nothing, she's never believed in promises. Her Dad promised her that he would be back home early that Christmas and what they got instead were two policemen at the door to tell them that Damien Fitzwilliam was dead. Killed in a head on collision with a truck. Will reads her correctly again.

'I am going to come back, Allie', he insists, leaning up on his elbows to look at her. She feels horrible and monstrous for she doesn't want him to go. She stares at the ceiling.

'Allie', he says, cradling her face. 'Look at me, love.'

'I don't want you to go Will', she sobs as she hugs him. 'I don't want to lose you.'

'You won't', he says with determination as he wipes her tears. 'I will come back to you, I promise.'

They just hold each other for some moments, savouring the other's warmth.

'Will', she says quietly. 'I love you.'

'I love you, Allie',he says as he presses a soft kiss to her forehead. He rubs her back and before she knows it, she's asleep.

When she wakes, Fitzwilliam Darcy is gone.

To be continued..

* * *

HEYYY

This is my first P&P Modern and this Darcy/Alina has been bothering me for days and today I finally decided to get it out of my system. Hope you liked it :)

Please, review.

If you liked the pairing, you can read my other story with the same characters (though a pairing there may not happen) called Lady Alina Fitzwilliam. It's set in the Regency Era and presents an OC's perspective of the Darcy and Fitzwilliam families starting 1804. Do give it a chance!

Love,

Mango


	2. Chapter 2

Pain. Pain. Pain.

It is all she can think about, it is all she can feel. It makes her useless, she cannot appreciate Bille's new dress, she cannot scream with the others when Thomas finally gives them a Christmas bonus, she cannot enjoy the latest avengers movie with her friends, she cannot go for walks in central park, because everything, everywhere reminds her of him.

His absence makes her realize that he was much more than a lover, much more than a boyfriend. He was her best friend. Her only true friend. Ofcourse, she has friends. Classmates, colleagues, neighbors but they tend towards acquaintances on the friend scale, rather than friend friends. The only people, whose closeness to her can be compared to her and Darcy's are miles away in Napa Valley, a place she has sworn never to revisit in her life. And her brother, her closest confidante, is a distant presence, occasionally near through emails but even that is a touch and go situation. She is sad and lonely and she hates him.

The magazine picture of him and his fiancée has been burnt and trashed and buried and flushed multiple times yet it is sharp in her mind. To think that the only man she ever loved would go and end up affianced to another woman without so much as a goodbye, is an unbelievable prospect yet it has happened to her. Perhaps it is Karma, she left her mother much the same way. The only good thing to come out of this heartbreak, that she finally melts enough to call her mother. And you know the situation is bad, when Eleanor, the epitome of the absent parent, notices that something is amiss when they talk. She hesitantly asks her daughter if she is alright and Alina breaks. She breaks down, she cries into the receiver, her body shaking with huge sobs, tears and snot running down her face. She is an ugly crier. She knows, but what do appearances matter when you are sad and alone and curled up on the floor, your heart in pieces.

Eleanor flies down immediately, very out of character for her, and very clinically extracts the whole story from Alina. She says nothing, just holds Alina when she cries, mentally thinking of ways to torture the son of a bitch who reduced her brave, headstrong daughter to a broken mess. She has a strong suspicion that Allie, the one hit the most by her father's untimely death, replaced him with Darcy in her affections and heart and his betrayal is bringing feelings hitherto unexpressed to the fore. When Alina has finally succumbed to sleep, she puts on her gold rimmed glasses-a secret from everyone because Eleanor James cannot have a single weakness, can she?-and googles Fitzwilliam Darcy.

He is not the graphic designer that he told her daughter he was. Instead, he is the owner of a multibillion dollar corporation, betrothed to Caroline Bingley, the daughter of a influential British politician. He has been affianced to her before he came to America. Eleanor's blood boils at this realization. To think that this piece of slime was already engaged and yet he sought her daughter's affection lights a fire inside her and for a minute she wants nothing more than to strangle him with her bare hands. Sense and geography prevail, and she erases the history and rubs her eyes tiredly. She wants Alina to come back with her, to Napa Valley but she knows that she won't as soon as she thinks of the idea. And she doesn't want her to, Eleanor realizes to her surprise, she doesn't want Alina to give up her dreams just because her heart has been broken, her faith has been shaken. Her Allie has always been strong and stubborn, she's a fighter and Eleanor knows that if anyone can get over this, it's her.

So, to Alina's surprise, Eleanor doesn't offer to take her to Napa Valley with her. She gives her a hug and a couple of thousand dollars with a flight ticket to England and a hotel reservation in downtown London near the date of Darcy's wedding.

'He ran from you', she says quietly as she arranges her clothes in her suitcase. 'But he must face you. He must face what he did to you, before he marries the other girl. I don't want you to cause a scene, just eye contact would suffice.'

To say that Alina is flabbergasted is an understatement. Surely her mother is crazy.

'This way', Eleanor continues, 'you'll be able to leave him behind and move on.'

It makes no sense but when BA flight 808 leaves New York a week later for London, Alina is on it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Alina Fitzwillian rings in her twenty third birthday on a plane to an unfamiliar country. If she goes by New York time, there are still hours to go for her birthday but they are just three quarters of an hour away from London and since she's going to be spending her special day here, she silently makes a toast to herself with a bottle of overpriced airplane orange juice as the passengers on her either side buckle their seat belts in preparation for landing.

The flight to London has been very uncomfortable. Since Eleanor booked her a ticket last minute, she's squashed between an old drunk with wandering hands and a young, tired mother with an infant. She's been forced to slap his hands throughout the flight until he finally desisted when she threatened to squeeze his shrivelled old balls. Everytime she's tried to nap, the baby squealed or cried and now, when she looks at the colored liquid swishing around in the bottle in her hand as the plane starts descending, she wants to just get out of the tin box and just breathe clean air, unspoiled by the smell of whisky and full diapers.

It's another two hours before she's out of the airport and it's already 4PM. The sky is a depressing grey and she sighs as she makes her way to the nearest subway station and takes the Picadilly Line. The next train will come in 10 minutes and she looks at her haggard face and messy hair in the glass doors that line the platform. Apart from the physical exhaustion, there's something in her expression that hinds at a bone deep tiredness and she sighs as she accepts that she hasn't been fine since her father died. Cutting herself off from her family probably just compounded the problem. She smiles sadly because it's funny, this ephiphany she just had, standing in a crowd of strange people in an unfamiliar country. Her phone pings with 'happy birthday texts' from her friends at Wendy's but she just ignores them.

'Hey', someone taps her on the shoulder and she looks back to see a blonde guy with dreadlocks grinning at her.

'What?', she asks warily, her shoulders tensing.

'Whoa, girl, relax', he says, raising his hands in a placating gesture. 'I just wanted to say nice eyes. Do you have Alexandria syndrome?'

'What is that?' she asks, intrigued but clutches her sling bag tighter just in case he has a pickpocket buddy who steals valuables while this sloth distracts people.

'You have violet eyes and dark hair', he says contemplatively. 'Classic indications. You have a perfect figure, almost no body hair, do you have periods?'

Alina doesn't know what to say. She is saved by a stranger in a dark overcoat and sunglasses who tells the guy to sod off before he embarasses their country.

'Sorry, love', he smiles apologetically, his blue eyes shining over his sunglasses. 'We have a bunch of crazies here, just like any other country.'

'Thanks', Alina says hesistantly but then because of some inexplicable urge, holds out her hand. 'I'm Alina.'

'I'm Klaus', he says and grips her hand in a firm handshake. 'So what brings you to London in this horrible weather?'

'I'm here for a friend's wedding',she replies, running a hand through her hair self consciously. Klaus is ridiculously good looking and she is suddenly conscious of her shabby appearance. 'He's getting married this week and he's my best friend, so here I am.'

'That's funny', Klaus says slowly, his eyes flickering to the oncoming train. 'I'm here for a wedding too, one of my closest friends is getting married on Sunday. His father died a few months ago and he doesn't have many friends, so I thought I'll come in early. And with his future brother-in-law, I'm his only hope for a bachelor party.'

'Your friend is lucky', Alina smiles as Klaus holds out his hand for her to climb into the carriage first. 'I hope he has an amazing bachelor party.'

'Yeah, it'll be hard to convince him to come out for a night of debauchery', Klaus says and smirks. 'He's one of the responsible,serious ones.'

'And you? Are you one of them as well?' Alina asks suddenly and then wants to slap herself for it came out sounding very flirty and giggly.

'You need to ask this question from my Sunday school teacher', Klaus grins mischieviously. 'She'll probably tell you that I was the worst sort of degenerate and the most heinous student she has ever taught.'

'What did you do?' Alina is interested. The look in his eyes hints at something very, very diverting.

'I wrote my own version of the Bible in colloquial english for an assignment', he answers, his lips pulling up in a smile that makes his dimples stand out. 'She called my parents and I had to clean all the tombstones on Sundays for a year.'

'It must have been very bad', Alina giggles. Alina can just picture his younger self smiling deviously as he writes his own version of Adam and Eve. The train lurches to a stop rather suddenly and Klaus puts his hands on her shoulders to steady her and she smiles at him uncertainly.

'I would've showed you', he says as he guides to a now empty seat and she sits down, her bag between her legs. He stands in front of her, one of his hands on the hand hold dangling from the ceiling, the other in his pocket. 'But she made me burn it.'

Alina laughs, there is something about this man that sets her at ease. They continue talking for another hour. He regales her with more amusing stories from his childhood, he has three siblings and two of them were even worse than he was at getting themselves in trouble with Mrs. Forbes, their Sunday school teacher. She peppers him with questions about London and his answers make her laugh harder than she's laughed in months. He watches her laugh fondly and she smiles up at him.

'So, now that you know about my childhood trauma, tell me something about you.'

'What do you want to know?' Alina asks him. She cannot think of anything about her that he would find interesting about her except the fact that she's probably here to punch an ex-flame but she doesn't want to come across as crazy so she keeps quiet.

'Anything', Klaus replies. 'Your hopes, your dreams..'

'God, you're good', Alina says admiringly and Klaus arches an eyebrow in response.

'What do you mean?'

'Flirting', Alina explains. 'You do it damn well.'

Klaus laughs loudly and some of their fellow passengers turn their heads to look.

'Alina', he says grinning, his eyes twinkling, 'I'm liking you, love.'

'Too bad', Alina replies cheekily. 'Because my destination is here.'

The trains slows as it enters the station and Alina gets up, adjusting her grip on her suitcase but Klaus takes it out of her hand.

'Let me help you', he says, placing a hand on her lower back as they move towards the door. They disembark together as the doors open and Alina looks at him questioningly when he doesn't climb back in.

'This is not your stop', she says. 'You didn't even move until I got up.'

'My stop is an hour from here, in the opposite direction', Klaus admits sheepishly, as he runs a hand through his hair. 'But I find myself intrigued by you. And I couldn't say goodbye just yet and never see you again.'

'I'm flattered', Alina says, ready to let him down gently before Klaus holds out his hand in a gesture for her to stop. He runs a hand through his hair again as he thinks of something to say that won't freak her out.

'Why don't I take you out for dinner tomorrow?' he says. 'As friends. It wouldn't hurt to have one more friend here, would it?'

'Okay', Alina agrees and his face lights up. She likes him, he seems like a nice guy and having someone to talk to would probably make this trip easier. She takes the phone he offers her and puts in her number. He saves it and calls her and her phone vibrates so hard, it falls out of her pocket. Klaus catches it and hands it back to her.

'Thanks', she says as she flexes her shoulders because they are killing her. 'I'll see you tomorrow?'

'Yes', he answers, his hands in his pockets. 'I'll pick you up at half past seven?'

'Sounds good', she replies as she turns away, wheeling her suitcase towards the escalator.

'Alina', he calls and she looks back over her shoulder to see him smiling. 'Happy Birthday.'

Alina's lips pull up in a smile. 'Goodbye, Klaus.'

'Bye, love', he says as she turns away for the last time.

Her phone pings and she looks down to see a picture of a buckingham palace guard wishing her a happy birthday and she shakes her head in amusement and puts her phone back into her pocket. It looks like there is a silver lining to the clouds in her life this time.

* * *

A/N: Hi guys

A million thanks to luce1993, Lynned13, Lila, Maggs for their reviews. You guys are awesome! Reviews encourage and inspire me to write so please review. I would love to hear your thoughts :)

Love,

Mango

PS Klaus is not a creep, he saw the happy birthday text notifs when he handed her the phone.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Apart from meeting Klaus and the fact that she is in another country, her twenty third birthday is pretty much unremarkable. After leaving Klaus at the station, she walks to her hotel which is about four blocks from subway. It's a nice place. Quiet, beautiful and respectable. She checks in and the clerk hands her the key card after checking her passport.

She makes her way up to her room in an old grill lift that moves with a loud clanking sound as it slows ascends the floors. It shudders to a stop at the fourth floor and she has to pull at the grills hard to get them to open. As soon as they are open all the way, an automated voice blares out of the speaker near the buttons.

'Please close the door', it says repeatedly as Alina pushes and shoves the grills to get them to close. She is panting by the time the lift descends, and her temples ache from the asinine voice of the lift lady.

She hobbles to her room slowly, dragging her feet. She feels so, so damn tired and all she wants to do is sleep. But her stomach has other ideas. It growls loudly as she inserts the key card and she wishes that she had asked Klaus to prepone his offer of dinner. A meal with him would have been enjoyable and his stories would have kept her from collapsing and napping on the dinner table. She opens the door and enters her room, the wheels of the suitcase squeaking as they pass the threshold behind her. Her room, though just an SRO **,** looks pretty homey and comfortable.

She looks at bed hungrily, it seems to be calling to her, the clean, sweet smelling sheets beckoning to surrender herself to sleep in their warm depths. It takes a great deal of effort but she turns away from the bed and picks up the telephone to order in. She tells room service to deliver the meal in forty five minutes and heads to the bathroom for a much needed shower.

The hot spray pounding on her back makes her feel human again and her muscles relax. She braces herself on the tiles in front of her as she bends her head forward to soak her hair. The soothing sensation of hot water massaging her scalp is divine and more divine is the sensation of Darcy's lips against her hot, wet skin. His lips leave a trail of burning skin as they travel from her shoulder to her throat. His lips suck at the skin where her neck meets her shoulders and he bites her hard enough to leave a mark and she moans. The sound breaks her out of her reverie and her eyes snap open. There is no one else in the shower with her and she slumps against the glass wall of the shower, her legs splayed out in front of her, ashamed of her tired daydream. This guy fooled her, dumped her, betrayed her and she's still thinking about him. Her eyes fill up with tears and she curses Fitzwilliam Darcy for reducing her to this mess.

* * *

Alina's phone rings loudly, screaming 'Highway to Hell' and she smacks it angrily. She wants to sleep but it just doesn't shut up. The ringing stops but begins again after a blessed minute of silence and she finally gives in and throws back the covers. The phone is at the other corner of the room, a very, very bad decision she made yesterday to ensure that she woke up after 12 hours and she makes her way towards it groggily. The alarm continues blaring the dulcet tones of AC/DC and she feels a savage satisfaction when she shuts it off. Part of her wants to collapse on the bedsheets again and sleep for at least a couple of hours more but the amount of text messages on her phone distracts her. There are happy birthday texts from her colleagues at Wendy's that she had ignored yesterday, there is a short text from her mother asking her if she reached and 2 missed calls from her as well, a text from Klaus asking if they're still on for tonight and surprise, surprise, a happy Birthday text from Georgiana.

 _Dearest Allie_

 _Wishing you a very, very Happy Birthday. Have a great day and please keep in touch._

 _Lots of Love,_

 _Georgie_

Alina doesn't understand why Georgiana is messaging her after all this time. Though Georgiana had kept in touch until Darcy announced his impending nuptials-which made Alina think that maybe, just maybe, Darcy was rethinking his decision because of her-she had maintained a radio silence since then. Georgina's wishes ring hollow, they leave a sour taste in Alina's mouth and makes her reconsider checking her phone first thing in the morning.

Her phone vibrates and her mother's face fills the screen. This is a new development, Alina clicked a picture of Eleanor when she wasn't looking and saved it. It's nice to see a familiar face, be it on a screen and Alina swipes down quickly.

'Alina', Eleanor sounds worried. 'You didn't call or text.'

'I'm sorry, Mother', Alina says and she can hear her mother sighing with relief.

'I lost track of time and then I slept like the dead. I just got up and I was going to call you I swear-'

'Alina', her mother interrupts. 'I'm letting you get away with this now but next time you keep me up the whole night worrying, I'm gonna kill you kid.'

'Got it, Mother', Alina says and there is a smile on her face. It feels nice to talk to her mother again.

'How's the hotel? Is everything clean, I mean, I looked them up online but you can never tell with these things can you? The photos could be fake-'

'I like it here', Alina says. 'Though I haven't seen much of the city except the subway and the walk to my hotel from the station. I met a creep and a cute guy who's invited me to dinner tonight.'

Eleanor's quiet for a second. 'Are you going?'

'Yes, I am', Alina hadn't decided until then but as she says it, she realizes that she wants to see Klaus again. He likes her, she likes him and it's better to spend a night in company rather than brood alone.

'This trip is going to be hard for you', Eleanor says. 'Seeing Darcy will be emotionally taxing and you will be vulnerable. Are you sure this guy won't take advantage of you? Boys do, you know.'

'I'm not seeing Darcy today. I don't know when I am going to see him, definitely not the wedding, but it's not today. I want one day to enjoy the sights and have a nice dinner and I'll think about this tomorrow.'

'Whatever feels right, Alina. Just be careful. Take care of yourself and be alert.'

'Constant Vigilance, Mother', Alina says mock seriously, referring to an old childhood joke she use to make with her Dad. 'Constant Vigilance.'

'No putting your wands in your back pocket young lady', Eleanor gets the reference and her voice sounds a little shaky. They all miss Damien Fitzwilliam, his infallible sense of timing made everyone he ever comforted feel like things were going to take a turn for the better and he loved his little girl. He would have known how to console her and would have even kicked Darcy's British butt for breaking his daughter's heart, saving them all a lot of heartache and effort.

'I gotta go, breakfast's about to end in half an hour.'

'Be good, child', Eleanor says. 'Remember, you're better than him. He needs to face what he did but we don't have to be dishonorable or ill mannered like him.'

* * *

Klaus sputters when he sees her. He's waiting for her at the reception desk, dressed smartly in a shirt, vest and a dark pair of jeans that fit him very well. He's trying to make small talk with the receptionist but he doesn't realize that the kid is wearing in ear earphones that probably make her deaf to everything around her and Alina laughs a little as she gets out of the elevator.

Klaus turns at the sound and his mouth opens a little when he sees her. Alina had her hair cut into a short and uneven bob that afternoon and her eyes, lined with Kohl, looking stunning with the hair. He eyes her appreciatively as she walks towards him and her smile grows wider.

'You look ravishing, love', he says as he offers her his arm. He looks at her face carefully, almost like he's memorizing it. 'The new haircut suits you. The uneven look accentuates the angles of your face, the bangs on your forehead bring out your eyes.'

'Thank you, Klaus', Alina beams. 'I have never been complimented in such detail. Are you a stylist?'

'Not at all, love', Klaus smiles and his eyes crinkle at the corners and Alina is secretly thrilled that she made him smile. 'I am an artist and an older brother to a fashion designer.'

They have walked out of the hotel as they talked and now Klaus gently steers her towards the right. The weather is nice and it feels nice to walk with someone who is a stranger and knows nothing about her.

'What do you do exactly?'

'I'll tell you but only after you tell me something about yourself. It seems like all I have been doing since I met you yesterday is talk about myself. I want to know something about you.'

Alina stops walking and twirls a little as she turns to face him, making her hair fly around her face.

'Hi, Mr Klaus', she says prettily. 'My name is Alina, I'm from New York and I am studying economics. I like reading books and watching crime shows and travelling and I hate potatoes and pumpkins. It's nice to meet you.'

Alina was hoping that her childish performance would elicit a smile or a grin even yet Klaus just stares at her, his expression serious like he's contemplating something and her smile is replaced by a frown. She cannot think what she did wrong but then Klaus takes her hand and turns it and kisses her palm. It sends a shiver through her body and he notices it. He is about to place a second kiss on the inside of her wrist and Alina pulls her hand back out of his grip, her heart feeling like it's going to burst out of her chest.

'Don't', she says shakily. 'Don't spoil it. Be my friend, just my friend.'

'I'm sorry', Klaus says, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. 'I overstepped and I apologize. Please don't leave.'

'Why did you do it?' Alina says angrily.

'You fascinate me, Miss Allie from America', Klaus grins self deprecatingly. 'I don't know what you did, but you fascinate me.'

'You sound like a corny romance novel', Alina says, exasperatedly. 'I'm definitely not falling for lines like that.'

'You don't appreciate good sentence' formation and a functional vocabulary', Klaus grumbles as he falls into step beside her. 'I suppose you would prefer it if I talked in a series of grunts or was broody and uncommunicative.'

'No, I wouldn't', Alina counters. 'I'm not looking for a caveman or an emotionally unavailable jerk. But your sudden spout of ardour reminds me of an ex boyfriend of mine who dated me to win a bet.'

'That is a very unflattering comparison', Klaus says reflectively. 'Speaking from experience, I believe that it's better to be honest and just say what you want.'

'What do you want from me?' Alina says, her tone cold. 'A fling? You met me yesterday and I agreed to have dinner with you and that makes me an easy mark?'

'Please don't disrespect yourself', Klaus says quietly. 'I know it is too early in our acquaintance to say so but I am quite taken with you. For God's sake, I fancy you and I was scared that you were going to leave so I spouted some lines from those bloody romance books my sister reads and it obviously backfired.'

'Dear Lord', he mutters under his breath but Alina hears anyway. 'I'm turning into a chatty old biddy.'

Alina giggles. I don't even know what to say, Klaus. You seemed so put together and the epitome of an accomplished flirt yesterday and now you are fumbling like a school boy and admitting a deep admiration for a girl you just met!'

'Your fault, love', Klaus says, grinning ruefully. 'You bring out the worst in me.'

'Shut up, you', Alina smacks him on the arm as they resume walking. 'Tell me about yourself. What do you do?'

'What do I say?' Klaus taps his chin with his forefinger and Alina's eyes are drawn to his lips. They are almost feminine in their beauty. Klaus is a handsome man and she cannot reconcile his looks with his personality. Most handsome men she's met have been Class A jerks, too confident in their ability to woo women to actually give a damn about anyone's feelings.

Klaus is different. Yes, he's cute, devastatingly so but he's kind and funny as well and just a teensy bit adorable when he word vomits.

'Well, my name is Niklaus Mickaelson', he begins. 'I'm the second eldest in my siblings, I have an older brother, Elijah and a younger brother, Kol and a sister, Rebecca. I paint for a living, portraits to pay the bills and nature to feed my soul. I love coffee and I hate wolves.'

'Why do you wear that necklace?' Alina asks. He wears a necklace of worn, multicolored beads that clashes with his clothes yet he touches it fondly as she asks him about it.

'My youngest brother, Henrik made it for me', Klaus says. 'It's the last tangible memory of him that I have.' .

'I'm sorry', Alina says and she touches the mole beneath her left ear almost reflexively. Her father had a mole in the same spot and looking at it, touching it makes her feel close to her father. She doesn't ask how Henrik died. She doesn't like to talk about how her father died and probably Klaus doesn't either. So she asks a different question instead. 'Will you tell me about him?'

Klaus doesn't answer and she realizes that he's looking frantically around himself, muttering indistinctly under his breath. 'What happened?'

'I didn't notice where we were going', Klaus says. 'We've come quite a distance from where I planned to take you.'

'Isn't there some good place nearby?' Alina asks. 'There must be someplace nearby.'

'I wanted to take you someplace nice and fancy and the one nearby, Ted's it's called', it's good yet-'

'What?' Alina says defensively, looking at the apprehensive look on Klaus' face. 'Am I not fancy enough for your snobby place?'

The color drains out of Klaus' face. 'I never meant it like that. Ted's is an old sailor's pub at the back of an alley, I thought it's not a good place right now-'

'Oh, stuff it, love ', Alina says, pushing past him, typing furiously on her phone.

'What are you doing?' Klaus catches up with her and peers at her phone screen.

'Searching directions for Ted's', Alina says. Klaus grins at her, his dimples thrown in stark relief by the Street lamp and it's frighteningly easy to imagine him as the little boy who wrote his own version of the Bible and submitted it with a cheeky smile.

She likes him too, she realizes. She hadn't thought that this would happen so soon, had thought that it would take her broken heart more time to recover but the unexpected has already happened. She's in strong like with Klaus.

His smile grows wider, it's like he can read her thoughts as if they are emblazoned on her forehead in bright neon.

'What?' Alina says, crossing her arms across her chest, tilting her head a bit so that her hair falls out of her eyes.

'You're walking in the wrong direction, love', Klaus says, his grin impossibly wide. He turns away from her, his left hand slightly behind his back and Alina sighs before she entwines his fingers with his. To his credit, he doesn't harp about it but he squeezes her fingers lightly and they both walk along without saying a word, enjoying the companionable silence.


End file.
